A Dose Of Regret
by MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: Princess Mithian could imagine what it would be like to have Merlin all to herself. Then she would wake up and realize it was all just a dream. One-Shot, Canon AU. Based on drabble challenge on


**A DOSE OF REGRET**

* * *

**Haven't posted anything in the Merlin fandom for ages! Here is a drabble I did, which was stretched out into a one-shot by Wil, Jill and EM on :**

**DRABBLE PROMPT**

_"Merlin._

_How treacherous of her even to think of his name in passing when she lay next to her husband on their bridal bed._

_What shame and dishonour she would bring on her father and Nemeth if it was known that the Princess lusted after a man who scrubbed armour and sharpened swords. Indeed, she took a great risk in bringing up his name in the dead of night. The walls had ears, even if she dared not divulge her secret to anyone._

_And for the millionth time, after her sad eyes stared wistfully into space, dreaming about touching his skin, kissing his lips and waking up next to him, she asked why._

_Why had she married somebody else?"_

* * *

**A DOSE OF REGRET**

**Mithian's Dream**

The same vivid dream returned to Mithian night after night.

She was always lying on top of him naked, carding her fingers through his unruly raven-coloured hair. They were in a large chamber, but she never noticed anything about its features except the softness of the sheets and him. There was always a full moon- never half or crescent. She would always notice how it splashed onto their skin, casting an ethereal glow over their entwined bodies.

_"It's midnight,"_ he would whisper, and she just knew that despite the dark, he was smiling at her.

_"I know, but… I don't want to leave you…"_

_"Aren't you tired after… all that?"_

His voice would always be a soothing murmur, sending tender chills down her neck, and somehow, she could tell he was blushing at that point.

_"I'm stronger than I look, you know. And… I could say the same about you."_

_"So… you're staying?"_

_"Is that what you want, Merlin?"_

At that moment, she would always fear his tentative pause, his unstable bridge between yes and no. The dream would remind her that they had spent many nights like this, wrapped up in heat, linen sheets and wild passions, yet every time they had this conversation, she was still unsure he wanted to keep her. It didn't matter whether she needed only wait a few seconds for his answer, each time he paused still posed the possibility of rejection.

_"I… I think I do."_

_"Then I'll stay…"_

She'd lean in and capture his lips with hers… Then a rush of pleasure made giant waves through her body when she felt him pull her closer, returning the kiss. There was no compulsion in the liquid movement of his lips- nor in hers; not even any passion to speak of, but just a gentle, sincere submission. A confession of attraction, of understanding... of love. The dream told her that out of all the times their lips had touched, this was her favourite kiss of all.

By and by, she would drift off to sleep in his arms, and in the morning… her eyes would flicker open to find herself still in heaven…

Still next to Merlin.

* * *

**Morning**

Except, of course, that was just a dream, and she woke up to find her real husband wide awake and aroused.

With a forced smile and sigh, she submitted to advances that did nothing for her, to a love she could not tolerate- except for the fact that whilst she pretended to enjoy his ministrations, her mind could wander once again to a place she would rather be.

If she couldn't share her love in the way she wanted, then at least there were the genuine memories of happier times they shared together...

* * *

**Mithian's Memory- Camelot Castle, A Year Ago**

"…_Some people say ghosts haunt this corridor. But then some people say a lot of things."_

_She watched his bright, intelligent eyes travel all around the recesses of a solitary internal arch situated on a stone and marble balcony high above civilisation. He always seemed to exude this otherworldly sense, as though he knew so much more- simply __**was**__ so much more than what he appeared. It was only through collecting tiny fragments of hints he dropped from time to time that she began to build a picture of another Merlin hiding inside the man standing before her. This was such a time: __**"But people say a lot of things,"-**__ why could she not shake the feeling he was hinting at something else rather than the relatively mundane subject of ghosts?_

_Whatever it was, only he was allowed to know. _

"_Imagine if it were true, though, Merlin; what would happen then?" _

"_Nothing, unless Arthur thought it was an emergency- which is highly unlikely. Seems like anything can be mysterious if people want it to be."_

"_You have to admit it is quite foreboding- thick, grimy and cobwebbed."_

"_Really? It's just an arch with a stupid face carved into the stone."_

_She laughed at that; he had no sense of tact and his extraordinary way of not seeing the excitement or glamour of everyday things, such as ghost legends made her shake her head affectionately. Maybe because his life was so unusual anyway, the novelty had worn off on him; he'd certainly travelled more than most people in Camelot. Plenty of time to encounter the strangest of what Albion had to offer…_

"_If you say so. It was probably designed to frighten people. I'm not scared of it, though._

_Finally, his restless, piercing gaze met hers clearly. Before she took time to relish the electric shivers racing down her body, it was to deal with the unnerving honesty in his eyes. Quite apart from the fact that they made her want to drop all pretence and give herself to him, it was impossible to imagine how anyone could conceal anything from these beautiful orbs... how anyone could deny them anything… _

"_I know you're not." _

_It took a few moments before her untimely blush subsided, and she could hesitantly meet his eyes again. _

"_I… I like wandering around the Castle… w-with you. Back at Nemeth, I would only ever do this kind of thing alone."_

_Typically, it was then his turn to lower his eyes bashfully. Long ago, she'd stopped trying to understand why he'd grow so defensive and self-conscious every time she tried to throw a hint of a compliment his way. It couldn't be because of Arthur, because the time when they'd been separated by status was long gone. No, she was almost sure it had something to do with her and yet even she hadn't the courage to pursue the matter. _

"_Best to go accompanied- just in case you get abducted by… I don't know, a daemon or… or if you need someone to blame when you get lost."_

"_Is that loaded remark based on real experience?"_

_She was already expecting that typical, grudging smile to flit across Merlin's face after the suggestion and he did not disappoint her. _

"_Arthur tends to be classically unreasonable like that."_

* * *

**Nemeth: Morning**

"A young woman travelling to Camelot unaccompanied?"

Mithian bristled at her husband's tone, but smiled demurely, apparently more interested in her bread and grapes than the table discussion.

"I won't be unaccompanied," she replied tightly, "The Knights will travel with our party as usual."

"As usual? You mean this is a regular excursion?"

The interruption came from her husband's sister, Hélissante, whose ever-delicate eyebrows were raised to the extreme heights at this revelation.

"As my father wishes." She hoped her response would silence their irritating questions for now. It seemed to work, as Amélien, her husband, turned their conversation to the cloth trade in England as compared to France- a topic Mithian had no interest in whatsoever.

A good excuse to tune out and and continue to pick at her food in peace.

Amélien and Hélissante de Nantes were no different to the average trade merchants to be found in Brittany. The only exception in their case was that they were obscenely wealthy, and that was more than enough reason for them to enjoy various privileges wherever they travelled. Their fame had spread to both sides of the Channel, as only news of gold will. Helissante in particular had several friends (and a few lovers) in Nemeth, so she and her brother had been regular visitors since childhood. Mithian remembered Amelien in particular from his boyhood years; he'd been an insufferable show-off- worse, she had overheard him criticising her figure on several occasions.

It went without saying that she had largely avoided him since then.

So it had come as a great surprise when several months ago he'd propositioned her out of nowhere, claiming he had always admired her beauty, grace and pleasing manner. Sorely tempted to brush him off, Mithian had simply smiled weakly, nodding at the appropriate parts, before rushing off, hoping that her father would never find out. No such luck; the next day, she learnt from Rodor's not-so-subtle hints about "a possible conversation" with Amélien, and her blushes told him all he needed to know. She spent the rest of that morning hearing how wonderful the match would be, and how the Throne of Nemeth would be secure once she became Queen.

Knowing that her father meant well, and that she was fortunate he had always allowed her more freedom than most women, Mithian had not wanted to argue. So she did not mention the lack of chemistry on her part, or still carrying a grudge against him, nor of her indifference to wealth. A tactful silence was about as much as she could get away with for the time being.

To his credit, Rodor seemed to discern from her noncommittal responses to his enthusiasm for the affair _("yes, father… no, father")_ that her heart was not in it. He agreed that Amelien's proposition was rather surprising, but assured her that there would be no rush into marriage. It took time to return such feelings, he argued as she nodded hastily- secretly planning to waste as much time as possible. In ordinary circumstances, Mithian would have been grateful of the advice- but there was something she was hiding deep within her that ensured she could never love Amélien de Nantes, no matter what anyone else thought of him.

That single person awaited her in Camelot.

_He_ would not be expecting her; and it would remain unsaid that _she_ longed to see him again. The crippling weight of her lies grew with each passing day since she had finally been irrevocably joined with Amélien in marriage a month ago. Her normally pristine conscience lay in tatters as she struggled to make it through day to day, constantly on her guard for any slipup. And yet even after that, she sometimes wondered whether it would just be easier to reveal herself rather than live like a fugitive in her own kingdom.

Somewhere along the line was a breaking point where nothing would satisfy her more than seeing the forbidden fruit in person, even if the meeting would lead nowhere.

Not anymore. It was with tragic irony that Mithian only realized whilst crying softly on her bridal bed, that one- how she deeply she loved Merlin- and two, that she should have acted on her impulses before being consigned to this loveless trap of a marriage. Of course, a voice at the back of her mind told her that even if she had done… something, there was no hope of any real result. After all, despite the strength of her convictions, she had no idea what she even wanted from him. No, she would have struggled to explain herself- that would only convince him to keep his distance from her, and she could not live with that.

There was no way out. Except… A prisoner's view into his world, before she had to leave- back to Nemeth, her husband, her new life.

The seed had been planted, but Mithian was careful to allow Rodor to take full credit for the idea, to avoid awkward questions. It was her surprise announcement the next morning that prompted the ongoing cross-examination from her husband.

When the new conversation ran out of steam, Hélissante (also, in Mithian's opinion, a self-absorbed gossip) latched onto the novelty of travelling to Camelot once more, much to her dismay. Still, there was nothing for it but to endure their questioning, and then silence them by declaring that her father insisted upon the trip. Like it or lump it, she was going, and not even becoming someone's wife would confine her to the Castle like a piece of furniture.

"Do you have friends in Camelot, Mithian?"

"The King and Queen have been kind enough to allow me full right of way within the citadel."

"It is very strange to allow a woman such freedoms," Amelien mused.

"I don't see what difference it makes." Mithian failed to make her voice soft and reproachful- instead it was icy.

"-Still, I have heard many things about Arthur Pendragon," her husband continued, ignoring her retort.

_That _was another of his many shortcomings; he never seemed to truly hear her, except when she said something he was interested in- usually related to money. It was as though she was invisible, a mere ornament he kept in a cupboard, ready to be scrubbed and shined whenever he needed her. For all his backwards attitudes towards women, he was far more respectful to his sister than to her, a fact she resented. So it was with minimal surprise she found her comment being ignored once again. "They say he is the greatest warrior in Albion."

"That is true," Mithian blurted out with a genuine smile, unable to help herself. "And his Queen is renowned for her wisdom and good political sense."

"Clearly, you have been quietly acquiring your own contacts!"

_Now he listens…_

"Actually, I consider them to be close friends, as Arthur saved my father-"

"—I foresee a great financial advantage for us in meeting this Arthur Pendragon- don't you agree, Helissante?"

"You are right, dear brother. Remember, you still owe me a new satin gown for the wager you lost last week."

"How could I forget? It is all you speak of dawn to dusk."

Mithian repressed a sigh and once again returned to the solace of her plate. Her only wish that she would be allowed to travel without Amélien was obviously not going to be granted- and by the sounds of things, they would have the pleasure of Hélissante, and her inane gossip as well. It was enough to make her cancel the excursion- if not for the fact that she missed her real love too much to pass up the opportunity. On that note, she briefly tuned back into the reigning conversation; brother and sister were arguing over whether the prize dress should be royal blue or dusky lilac.

How two people could be so shallow was beyond her humble understanding.

* * *

**Mithian In Camelot**

They arrived in good time- well ahead of schedule, in fact, and were welcomed by the Queen, who explained that Arthur was out that morning and would return later in the day. Regardless of the turmoil swirling within her, there was enough happiness to appreciate the changes in Camelot since her last visit- most notably the news that the Queen's daughter Averil would be a year old by Yuletide.

Mithian was secretly relieved that she would not bump into Merlin instantly without refining the correct indifferent expression she wanted to wear when around him. At that moment, standing in the courtyard with a vivacious toddler in her arms, she was too elated, too optimistic that she would have been too happy to see him again as a result. No, she had to remain dignified, resolute, slightly detached no matter how much she wanted otherwise.

"I will have someone show you to a room," Guinevere was saying after the usual courtesies. "That is- if you'd like to rest after your journey?"

"We'd like that very much, wouldn't we, Amélien?" Mithian added quickly, smiling pointedly at her husband. "It is very kind of Her Majesty to have us here at such short notice, is it not?"

"I am not tired, Your Majesty," her husband replied, apparently not hearing what Mithian had suggested.

She was already expecting Guinevere to insist that her first name was used, but was more interested in coaxing her husband indoors before the Queen came at odds with his off-putting attitude. Fortunately, Amelien was willing to see inside Camelot's famed Castle as was his sister, and so the party were finally able to step indoors.

An hour later, Mithian escaped Amelien's side on the pretext of wanting to speak to the Queen. Thankfully, Guinevere was still in the Courtyard with her baby, else she might have been wandering around aimlessly for quite some time. The Castle was still so vast and imposing, though a few airy corridors seemed familiar from the last time her party had visited.

"So when did you get married?" Guinevere asked.

"Oh!" The question took her entirely by surprise, and she floundered a little before remembering Guinevere was expecting an answer. "A-A month ago." Fortunately, the Queen was busy prising Averil's chubby hands off her necklace, and did not _appear_ to hear the stammer and uncertainty in her voice.

"Aren't his family exceedingly wealthy- more so than the King of Nantes, I hear?"

"Uh… yes, I think so. But, uh… of course, I am not interested in his money or estate."

_Or him._

"That is good to hear. People are worth more than gold coins."

"Ah, yes."

"I mean, if you deeply love someone, then it won't matter who they start out as in life," Guinevere explained in that classically wise way of hers. "Like me and Arthur."

Mithian envied the customary smile that spread across Guinevere's face at the mention of her husband. There was nothing conventional about King and Queen- with one starting life as a servant and both marrying for love, but she didn't have to hide her feelings anymore- not when her word was law. As for her, nobody could know what she felt for Merlin regardless of her good intentions, regardless of what reasons she had to be grateful to him. It would never matter to anyone and there was no future in it for her either.

"That's… that's very true. And I completely… agree."

"What about the other young Lady?" Guinevere queried after a pause. "Is she Amelien's sister?"

"Helissante? Ah, yes. She's uh, quite a character. But enough about me- how are you?"

* * *

**Arthur Returns To Castle**

There were many people bustling around Mithian in the Courtyard- porters, courtiers, scribes, maids, Knights, Lords and Ladies. One thing she had always noticed about Camelot's Citadel was the never-ending noise filtering in and out of her ears, whether it be from day to day conversations, to people shouting out orders, or children laughing… It gave the sense of a happy Kingdom, somewhere a lonely soul could feel at home. At other times, she savoured the friendly chaos. Today, her eager eyes and racing heart only sought out one.

_He_ was laughing at something Gwaine had said whilst dismounting his horse. She never missed that animated expression in his eyes when he found something amusing, or that disarming smile that had captivated her since… since forever. Her eyes followed him relentlessly as he turned, listening to something Arthur was saying with a sceptical expression. Obviously he had a particularly witty answer to that comment, because suddenly all the Knights had turned away, pretending not to laugh whilst the King himself pursed his lips, trying to sustain a disapproving glare- only succumbing to a tiny smirk when Merlin's attention turned elsewhere.

The interaction between those two never failed to amaze her; it was unlike any dynamic she had ever seen, or had ever expected. Constant arguments, for example, could never be classed as a sign of friendship, and yet it worked exactly that way for them. They were so mismatched in every sense of the word; yet they seemed to fit so well, like a ball and chain or two brothers- when they really _shouldn't._

She snapped out of her imagination when Arthur shook hands with her- then it was all back to normal. The Princess act returned, and all Courtly etiquette came back to the forefront of her mind. Even then, it was great reluctance that she presented Amelien de Nantes as her husband:

"Trading family of Nantes?" Arthur queried with a raised eyebrow. Mithian was secretly glad to see the King was not going to fawn over her husband simply on account of his wealth.

"None other. And I think we shall have much to discuss."

"We… do?"

"Of course!"

Mithian fought back a smile as Arthur nodded slowly, then glanced back at Merlin.

"By the way," the King added, "This is Merlin- he's my fr- he… advises."

"What does a King need advisers-"

"—Amelien is delighted to meet you," Mithian interrupted quickly glaring at him. "Hello, Merlin," she breathed, with her most genuine smile in weeks. "It's nice to meet you again."

Regardless of her internal preparation, her breath caught in her throat as though time itself had stopped when Merlin smiled brightly at her… and then his eyes deliberately travelled from her to Amelien with an unreadable expression. If she had studied him closer, perhaps she would have said he seemed amused and surprised at the match. Instead, Mithian quickly broke eye contact, shaking hands with Gwaine.

Amelien nodded curtly, and did the same as the rest of the Knights were introduced. Clearly, Mithian assumed, they were equally intrigued about the presence of such a personality within Camelot's borders. In particular, she heard Gwaine whisper to Elyan almost out of earshot _"Amel- who?"._

* * *

**A Day Or So Later, Camelot**

"Mithian!"

"Hello, Merlin!"

"Sorry… I wasn't looking where I was-"

"Hey, I shouldn't really run down the corridors either. I just… uh- wanted to go for a walk."

He shrugged and smiled, evidently not knowing what to say in response. In that tiny awkward silence, her mind was racing- or perhaps it was screaming inside its cage. For the millionth time, that forbidden path was spread wide ahead of her, tempting her with its promises of limitless happiness, of satisfaction and fulfilment. A new possibility, a new life. She felt so helpless and yet emboldened at the same time- only trouble was, neither side offered a positive consequence. Still, there was no question that she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and have the decency to be honest with him, instead of constantly finding convenient excuses to bump into him as she had for the past few days.

Mithian knew he was too well-mannered to voice his confusion at always running into her- and somehow this made it even more embarrassing. Being a speechless wreck was not usually in her nature, but… Maybe this time, she could do no wrong by at least trying to steal some of his time…

"M-Merlin?"

"Is… Is something wrong- something you want to _tell_ me about?"

"I…"

It was really too tempting. Just close the gap between them, and… something had to happen. Even better, she could only imagine if he peered into the window of her mind and figured out what it was she was dying to say. But that was nothing more than the trap of wishful thinking.

"Mithian?"

She came back to her senses with a shaky laugh, brushing her curls back over her shoulder.

"Are you running an errand at the moment?"

"No- why?"

"We could uh… I mean, I'd very much like it if- Do you want to come for a walk… with me?"

"Ah… Wouldn't you rather go with your… husband?"

"He's busy," she lied quickly, instead of flaring up about the idea that she should be expected only to associate with certain people now she was married. "Really busy. All day- busy all day."

She felt she would die of embarrassment as he studied her quietly for a moment. Surely he saw through the façade, just as he had instantly recognized something was wrong on her second visit to Camelot in the company of Morgana? Everything in her posture spoke of crippling guilt, weakness and lies she could not possibly hope to sustain for the entirety of this visit.

"You seem very upset," he noted, matter-of-factly. "In fact, whenever we run into each other… you _always_ seem distracted, fragile… fearful…?"

"Why would you say that?

"I just find you rather easy to read, that's all. It isn't… serious, is it?"

"I never said-"

"—You can only hold secrets for so long. Eventually you grow so guilty that you grow mad agonising over whether you should just reveal yourself or kill yourself hiding your real identity…"

Her mouth hung open as he trailed off, staring at his fingers absent-mindedly. He'd done it again- spoken _beyond_ the situation… She was almost sure he was alluding to something other than what was hurting, aching inside of her, but it was impossible to tell what it was.

"So… so what would you do?"

"Don't know yet," he murmured, before seeming to realize she was asking him directly. Then he changed his tune: "I mean… being honest is better, Mithian. Better than looking depressed all the time."

"I'm not depressed all the time, I-"

"Yesterday evening you looked like you were going to cry."

"That's…"

"That's the truth. Tell me… Do you really love that Amelien person? Or was he just a convenient match?"

"Merlin! You shouldn't ask me such questions!"

"Why not?"

"Because… Because that is my business, and- and this conversation isn't appropriate…"

"You should never marry someone you don't love," he concluded after fixing her with another of his calculated gazes. "It's hopeless, pointless, achieves nothing. I don't like seeing you so lost and isolated, Mithian…"

"Well, what are you going to do about it now?" she snapped, finally at the end of her tether. All her exhaustion, frustration and internalized anger at the prison she had locked herself inside came pouring out for once- to the last person she wanted to shout at. "It doesn't matter what I want because I can't have…"

"Have what?"

"You… I… Look, I… Never mind," she sighed, on the verge of tears. "Who- who cares, anyway?"

"I do."

Those two words meant everything in the world to her. They were a lifeline, a raft in a stormy sea, a sliver of hope. Through her blurry eyes, she could see him step forward, felt his gentle fingers brush her hair back from her face. His touch traced fire under her skin, though it was lighter than a feather blowing in the wind. She quickly wondered what it must be like to return his caress…

Yet even then, she couldn't afford to simply let herself go; it occurred to her that they were both in a public corridor, regardless of whether it was currently empty. Still, his nearness, his concern, just him in person was enough to help her calm down. When she glanced up at him, she only found soft blue eyes staring back at her- eyes she could lose herself in and never regret it.

"I don't love him, Merlin," she murmured between tight gasps to keep the tears at bay. It was a final, comforting admission- not that she had any choice where someone as perceptive as Merlin was around.

"Didn't think so."

"But- but there's nothing I can do."

"Don't want to offend anyone, cause embarrassment to yourself and his sister, upset delicate political negotiations, disappoint your father?"

"You're right- you _can_ read me well."

"I try."

"I'm so glad you of all people, understand. I don't know what I'd do if…"

"If what?"

But she'd lost courage again and trailed off indefinitely, staring up at him expectantly. And it was precisely in that unusual moment that she noticed his wide eyes travelling over her face with more intensity than before- the kind of scrutiny that made her feel naked. She allowed it, encouraged it. She knew he was standing closer to her than was appropriate, but such a fact was more than she could ever have hoped for. Without flinching, she held his stare, taking in more of his face than before, savouring each feature and expression, treasuring them for a time when they would never freely be revealed to her again.

"Mithian?" he breathed.

"Yes, Merlin?"

"You're… you're really… I…"

And she realized he was staring at her in ways he shouldn't… that more than once, his eyes flickered down to her lips- and lingered there. His fingers hadn't moved from where they rested softly, comfortably against her neck, loosely entwined with her hair. She wanted to encourage him- but not where they could be so easily found. Merlin was right; insanity lay just around the corner. Her last comfort was a desperate hope that he at least suspected what her eyes so desperately tried to tell him in ways it was impossible to express in words.

* * *

**A Moment Later**

They sprang apart as though they'd been burned when several pairs of footsteps came into earshot. Two familiar voices accompanied some of them:

"—And so it was with great surprise that I learned I was to inherit the famous consignment of Roman Gold by virtue of several prudent connections," Amelien was boasting.

"I see," Arthur replied. From the tone of his voice, Mithian guessed he was trying not to betray his boredom.

"I arranged a party in celebration of my find immediately. Then what do I find the next morning- the King of Nantes had written to me personally, asking that he may stay at my house over the summer!"

"I see."

"So I wrote back in haste, declaring the idea to be splendid, and then had my scribe write letters to all the richest patrons in Nantes, informing them of the good news."

"I see."

Mithian pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. Guinevere also came into view, holding Averil and also wearing a forced expression of interest that changed into a smile when they made eye contact.

"Mithian! Merlin!" the Queen exclaimed unnecessarily loudly. "_Fancy_ meeting you here!"

"Yes, _fancy_ that," Arthur chimed in immediately. "By the way, Merlin- I thought I told you to finish those-"

"—Accounts finished an hour ago."

"Well excuse _me_ for not being telepathic- haven't you other tasks to be doing?"

"I could… show you some of those tasks…" Merlin suggested with a raised eyebrow. Mithian watched a tiny smirk creep onto Arthur's face, and suspected the two of them knew what they were talking about. "Some require a _great deal_ of explanation."

"That would be _very interesting_," Arthur replied pointedly.

"What is there to enjoy about accounts?" Amelien scoffed; "Except when it involves counting your own money!"

Arthur and Merlin pretended to laugh along with him; Mithian just rolled her eyes in disgust.

* * *

**Mithian and Guinevere**

As it turned out, Amelien had decided to tag along with Arthur and Merlin; soon all men had turned a corner, leaving Mithian with Guinevere and Averil. She knew the Queen was careful not to display her relief at being rid of Amelien, and would quite happily have comforted her that there was no need to fear causing offence, because none would be taken. However, Guinevere suddenly distracted herself in smoothing her daughter's skirts, so the awkward moment passed.

"You know, Averil has your eyes," she began, desperate for something to say.

"She does? I think she looks more like Arthur- certainly has his attitude, but… maybe as she grows she will at least have something of me in her face."

"You're very… lucky. Happy marriage, beautiful child, peaceful kingdom…"

She trailed off, noticing that for the first time Guinevere was studying her directly, no hint of pretend courtesy. It unnerved her, though she fought not to show it. That said, she could not tear her eyes away from the Queen's intense gaze.

"W-What is it?" she stuttered.

"You don't have to pretend, Mithian. I know you are putting on an act; I know what your secret is."

"What?" she repeated, dumbly. "If this is about Arthur, then I can assure you-"

"It's about Merlin and you know it. Frankly, I'm surprised your husband hasn't noticed, but he is far too— I mean, you are fortunate he hasn't noticed. A blind man could see it."

"I.. don't know what you are talking about…" she whispered feebly.

Guinevere shook her head vigorously.

"Well first of all, the way you were looking at him just now-"

"I wasn't-"

"—was pretty obvious. That's what I used to say when I couldn't admit how much in love I was with Arthur. Even in the face of the evidence; I couldn't be in the same room as him without looking his way, I thought about him most of the time- and Merlin kept telling me there was no use pretending, but I still hoped I could fool everyone instead of face the truth; I was a servant, and he was a Prince."

"I don't know how you managed."

"I didn't- but it became easier when I just told the truth- even if I never imagined that anything would come of it."

"Uh…"

"Believe me, Mithian; if you love him, you at least owe it to him to be honest. You owe him a lot- as do most of us. He clearly likes you in particular."

"M-Merlin likes everyone."

Guinevere laughed quietly. "You'd be surprised at who has made it into his bad books."

"Ah, I see."

"You are only staying for a few more days, then you will return to Nemeth and every day will be a torturous effort. Your life will be bleak and empty. People will start to notice. You cannot very well tell them the real reason for your pain. And a miserable Princess will make a terrible Queen. Is that how you want to live? Think about it, Mithian. The short term consequences of embarrassment and disappointment will seem like mere discomfort compared to living out the rest of your life in regret."

Mithian tried to open her mouth, found her throat to be choked. After several moments spent wondering how on earth Guinevere managed to find her out and what she was to do now that someone else could see through her pretense, she finally managed to croak:

"B-But I don't know whether he…"

"And you never will unless you ask."

* * *

**Helissante Appears**

Averil had started to doze off on her mother's shoulder, so Guinevere excused herself back to her Chambers. Mithian was glad of the quiet- a moment to order her wild thoughts. There was no use being shocked that Guinevere was very attentive- no doubt her stilted, casual responses to her marriage earlier had been noted even though nothing was said. Well, it was only going to be a matter of time, she reminded herself, running an anxious hand through her curls. Having ignored her own warnings, it wasn't too difficult to see herself being proven wrong.

Helissante appeared from a side corridor, asking Mithian if they could have a quiet word. Still reeling from the sudden revelation, she did not notice the vengeful glitter in Amelien's sisters eyes, nor of the tightness in her request. It was only when Helissante led them back to Mithian's Chambers and the door was slammed that she sprang out of her reverie abruptly, wondering why she was being glared at….

"I heard every word!"

Something dropped like a stone inside Mithian's stomach- a nasty suspicion, a horrible sense of misfortune.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop on other people's conversations, Helissante-" she interrupted placidly, fighting her racing nerves.

"I can't believe you love- that… Ugh. Over my own brother! You lying whore!"

_Oh God, what have I done? She knows. Helissante knows. Oh God…_

"-Don't call me a whore, I am a Princess. You are the one who has slept your way around half of Nemeth-"

"-Have you mixed powder with your drink? Did you suffer some mental affliction as a child that has clouded your judgement? Or are you simply a docile Princess, unlearned in the ways of the world? Which is it? Are you honestly _mad_?!"

Suddenly, Mithian's patience had once again been stretched to the limit. Was she insane to have her own opinion, her own feelings, someone she truly cared for? Did anyone else have the right to control her thoughts, decide what was right for her? Even Helissante, whose shocking knowledge meant terrible trouble if she used it as a tool of blackmail? The answer came pouring from her mouth even as she screamed internally at herself to find something more diplomatic to say:

"Yes! Yes I am! I love him. I love Merlin. There: I said it! I don't care whether he doesn't have tons of Roman Gold, or doesn't own a palace in the middle of France. I don't care whether there is nothing to gain from my feelings, or whether you can't see past your own nose- its true, and I… I am not ashamed of it. I have always loved him, and I'll never stop. Not for you, or anyone else."

"Then you are sorely misguided."

_I… I am horribly, tragically, hopelessly… stupid._ "I don't care what you think."

"Really? I don't think you will be so brazen when the whole of Nemeth hears about what a duplicitous witch you are. Marrying my brother for his money, for a start-"

"That's what people like you call decent unions, isn't it?"

"-Humiliating him with your lies, lusting after a man beneath your class for another… That will cause quite a stir!"

"I do not…"

"A discreet word in the right ears will bring a speedy end to your good reputation."

"You wouldn't dare…"

"Oh, wouldn't I? And why is that? Because you lie to my brother every single day, enticed him with your charms merely for the sake of your own security-"

"That isn't true! I did not choose to-"

"—Whilst continuing to plan how to next meet this Merlin. Who do you think you are fooling? I saw you together in the corridor- if the King and Queen had not appeared at that moment, you would have kissed him and had your wicked way with him then and there!"

"I…"

"You must be on very good terms to let him tenderly stroke your hair, Mithian. Perhaps I underestimate this- perhaps you have often met like this before-"

"No, we haven't!"

"After what I have heard today, you will understand that I now take everything you say with a pinch of salt. After all, why else would Merlin look at you like that?"

"Like… like what?"

"You should know- don't you look at him the same way?"

"I… What?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be so clueless, we both know what a master you are at false appearances! That son of a peasant mother is in love with you- though he is too simple minded to realize it. Perhaps he even tries to hide what he could not possibly understand. Typical of such classes."

"He…l-loves… me?"

"Shock, horror- even now you try to put on an act of surprise, of ignorance! I think there is more to this than meets the eye. Perhaps we shall know the truth in nine months or so!"

"That's a ludicrous accusation; I haven't come here in months and you know it!"

"All the more reason to arrange a visit where you can relieve your pent-up frustrations. No doubt he was looking forward to that, too."

"No, no- he would never-"

"Imagine if the King were to catch wind of this; his own so-called adviser perverting the rule of class to seduce-"

"Please, Helissante; you can do whatever you want to me, but leave him alone. If you even have the tiniest hint of decency in you, don't drag Merlin into your schemes. The problem is mine; I confess. Aren't you satisfied?"

A prickly silence ensued in the Chamber; every muscle in Mithian's body was tensed to breaking point. A chilly draft wafted in through an open window, ruffling her hair lightly. Tingles shot down her back, each more painful than the last, and her eyes were wide, pleading. She watched Helissante purse her lips, fling her hair over her shoulder, before- finally…

"You make a good case," the other woman conceded tightly. "After all, the King of Camelot inexplicably likes this Merlin very much. So we may avoid his path for now."

"Thank you…"

"On one condition."

How could she have assumed Helissante would be so freely generous? As Mithian opened her mouth, she knew instinctively she was signing her own death warrant.

"W-What… what is that?"

"You are not to obey the Queen's advice. You are Amelien's wife, and his to do with as he pleases. Accept this… or I will make life very unpleasant for you- and your beloved Merlin. Good day…"

Mithian shut her eyes briefly as the door to her Chamber slammed with a dull thud.

Only then, in the solitude of her own company, did she collapse onto her bed.

And the tears began to fall- first small trickles, melding into small rivulets, then flash floods, because she was trapped. There was no way out, there was no solution, there was no hope. Soon, the official party of Nemeth would leave Camelot, and thus her empty, hollow life would begin, just as Guinevere had prophesied. Sure, she would continue to have the same longing dream, imagining their life together, and there would always be the memories of happier, carefree times.

But then she would wake, and find that they were a distraction from the resounding truth; she was choking and there was no one to save her.

And for the millionth time, after her sad eyes stared wistfully into space, dreaming about touching his skin, kissing his lips and waking up next to him, she asked why.

Why had she married somebody else?

* * *

**FINIS**


End file.
